


From No One to Nothing

by maq_moon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Rey Needs A Hug, Reylo Fanfiction Anthology, canonverse, introspective!, kylo ren needs to get laid, now featuring a narrative storyline!, this is all kylo's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:44:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maq_moon/pseuds/maq_moon
Summary: Rey had called herself "no one", and it had been true. She isn'tno oneanymore.~RFFA TLJ Flash Fiction works~





	1. No One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Have you missed me? I haven't been gone long enough for you to miss me =P But I've missed you! And it's lovely to meet all of you new Reylos. Welcome aboard!
> 
> I've brought you a gift. The Anthology has tasked us with TLJ flash fic with a max word count of 1000. I had to cut out 350+ words, but this is exactly 1000! I also got BINGO on this little baby, having used the following: the light, fingers, salt (blink and you miss it), Jakku, and forest.
> 
> There's also a "My Fair Lady" reference because reasons.

"I'm no one."

It was the truth when I said it. I was no one, rappelling into dead ships in a graveyard looking for junk to trade for food. I was no one, sleeping in a hammock in a dead AT-AT, looking after a little plant, the single spot of green in my world. I was no one, walking on a planet that could have been dead, as nothing can grow in ever-shifting sands.

I was no one.

Then _he_ took me from the forests of Takodana. He touched my mind. Invaded it. He stabbed it with a thousand needles and woke something. I stabbed back. I wasn't no one anymore, and it was all Kylo Ren's fault.

I suppose I ought to have been happy. I had a purpose. I was important. I was important to people I had never met before. It made me itchy. They didn't know me. They didn't know Jakku and the scratches on my wall. I hadn't waited for them. They had been waiting for someone like me. Only because of what _he_ had awoken.

The next time I was asked who I was, I gave my name and purpose. I wasn't no one anymore, but I wasn't just Rey. I was Rey from the Resistance, the one person who could bring back Luke Skywalker, because of the Force. I wasn't able to. I don't think anyone could have.

He wasn't what I thought he would be. He was callous. There was a reason. People always have "reasons"; they never have excuses. I hadn't expected him to be a coward. He left to die. The galaxy's last hope, and his excuse for not helping was that he had decided to die. Decided. I had been fighting my whole life to stay alive. Here was legendary Luke Skywalker, wishing, waiting, and wanting to die.

And then, early one morning, there he was. Kylo Ren. Intangible, but there all the same. I shot blindly and I knew that he had felt it. I ran. But he was outside demanding that stupid map. I saw him as clearly as I saw the Caretakers. He was so close, but somewhere far away. He saw me as I saw him: a body, no scenery.

I don't know when I started to trust Kylo Ren. I don't know precisely when he became Ben Solo. I just knew somehow that he was earnest when he told me that his uncle had tried to kill him. Maybe it was his face. Maybe it was the way his voice shook. I couldn't believe it, but I knew that Ben _did_. How could I reconcile those two feelings?

Luke would barely talk to me. Chewie stayed on the Falcon, trying to contact the Resistance. I was alone until those moments when my spine would stiffen and my heart would quicken and I would look up to find _him_. Ben.

I still don't understand how he came to me. I knew that he would, though, when I reached out my hand. I was trembling; so was he. I wasn't alone when I could talk to him. I had a friend in that moment when we touched. I wish it had lasted longer. I wish I had looked into his eyes for _days_ instead of seconds, because I saw something I had never seen before. I don't know what it's called, but it was warm. It sent the trembling from my fingertips to my lower abdomen. It made my throat go dry. It made me want to touch _more_ than his hand.

I saw _Ben_ in that moment. I saw his pain. I saw him standing beside me. I saw him _fighting_ beside me.

With an explosion, it was over. With a confession from Luke, I went to Ben.

I didn't find Ben, though. I found Kylo Ren. As he led me to his Master, I told him what I had seen. And maybe it was manipulative of me. Maybe it was an effort to get him to let me go. But I believed what I saw. He had seen something, too-- something he was certain would make me join him. My parents. Maybe he was manipulating me as well. Still, I didn't flinch.

When Snoke said he had created our Bond, I didn't know what to think. Surely he was lying. He had to be. What Ben and I had was real. What we felt was real. We touched and we weren't alone anymore.

Then I was kneeling before Ben, crying. I tasted the salt of my tears, terrified that he had believed Snoke, terrified that he hadn't and Snoke would force him to kill me anyway. But Ben killed Snoke, and I knew he was mine to keep. Even if the Bond was broken, he was mine. We weren't alone. We fought together. We would go home together. We would _be_ together, and I could understand the feeling I had when I looked into his eyes and touched him.

Ben didn't want those things. We were civil at first, trying to convince each other. He made me say the words I had known for a while but couldn't bear to put to voice. My parents were nobody. He said the rest, a cruel sort of kindness. I was sold. They were dead. They were nothing.

"You're nothing. But not to me."

Someone who doesn't know Ben might think that he was trying to degrade me. No; he was saying that I came from nothing and could, with a touch of our hands, rule the galaxy. I am Rey Nothing who survived Jakku, and he wanted me to own the stars. Part of me wanted that, too. Going from being subservient to Plutt to owning him... it would be a dream. It would be No One's dream. It isn't Rey Nothing's dream.

No One would have killed him. Nothing left him unconscious.

I still believe what I saw. I believe he will fight for Nothing.


	2. to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never used so many sentence fragments in a big jumble like this. May the Grammar Gods forgive me!
> 
> This one's 729 words and I have no idea if I filled any Bingo squares XD

It's physics that pulls him back to Jakku. Gravity. Equal but opposite reactions.

He puts his hand on her rusty old AT-AT and can feel her past. She was unloved but unyielding. Untouchable. An echo from nearby but long ago: _let go of my hand!_

He looks at his own hand. Leather gloves; they weren't there when he had touched her. When he took her calloused fingers. Exothermic reaction. Chemistry. Heat, not just in their digits, but somewhere else, too. Lower. Deeper.

He's sweating, but not from sunlight. It is dusk. The desert is frigid at night; he knows it from her memories and his uncle's stories. He's sweating, and it's biology.

It's base and simple and he wants to be disgusted with himself. He can't, though, because she's beautiful (symmetry and ratios have nothing to do with it) and she reached for him first. She told him her secrets even after he had been horrible, unforgivable. Unlovable. Unable _to_ love, but with a strong capacity to hate. Hate is _passionate_ , and passion, when you do the math, sets you free. He never understood the adage about there being a thin line between love and hate. One either hates or loves. Binary. Then, a whisper: _neither are you_ and lines became invisible, love and hate had no meaning and only passion remained.

But this isn't physics or chemistry or biology. He doesn't know what it is. He slams his fist into the walker's door. Shock. Pain. Aches and bruises. Feelings made tangible.

There is a doll, tattered and torn. It was better loved than his girl ever had been. He moves to rip off its head, but his hand stops.

Physics.

He is being pulled somewhere else. He is being drawn to a remote place in the badlands that he never thought he would see, never thought he would have occasion to see. Jakku's scenic wastes. A bone yard. Gravity is pulling him to _their_ bones. The ones who sold her so they could get shit-faced one more time. The ones who swore they would come back.

He is being pulled there, but he knows it isn't time to go yet. To the bones. He'll spit on them, crack them, grind them if he goes now. He won't be a part of the solution that way. He needs her to be there, and she needs him. He knows she'll make planetfall soon. This wasn't coordinated, but the most beautiful things in nature are rarely planned. Rey alone cannot solve her problem. She requires help-- not a catalyst. No, he must be an active part of the precipitate.

Chemistry.

And if he feels his trousers tighten at the thought of her, so what? If he shakes when he imagines her face, puts his bare hands on his skin as he falls asleep thinking of her, that's fine. That's normal. That's what people _do_ when they fancy someone.

Biology.

And maybe he hasn't made love to a woman yet, but that doesn't mean he never will. He hopes, _stars_ , he hopes it will be Rey. If she'll have him, unlovable as he is. She's his lost girl, no longer all alone, and she fought by his side. She summarily rejected him, but she can reconsider. She'll change her mind. She told him that he wasn't alone. She came to him. She'll come back. She'll see him and feel what she did before and she'll come to him.

This is the other thing, the thing he can't name. It's illogical and he knows it will hurt him. Some part of his mind that sounds like Snoke says that he's _wrong, wrong, wrong_ and she isn't coming to Jakku at all, that their bond broke when the old man died and he imagined her pleading expression on Crait.

Ben Solo killed Snoke, for better or worse. Whoever he is now, whatever name or title he chooses, he is cramped in an ancient piece of Imperial tech, waiting.

It makes them equal in some way, he thinks. They have both crouched in this dead hunk of metal, yearning for the ones they covet to come back. Equal but opposite reaction. Physics. If her parents never returned, surely that means she must return to him. To something bigger, better than either of them could have ever imagined.

It's science, and (his mother's voice whispers) hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, kids!   
> So the line "Passion, when you do the math, sets you free" is a reference to the [Sith Code](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Code_of_the_Sith). It's an if A, then B scenario that's several lines long.


	3. Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our final piece checks in at 993 words. I had to cut about 70 to make it fit the word count :(
> 
> Such is life. One of my mentors in college used to say that a good writer can cut 10 sentences to 5 and 5 to 3. We were talking about research and non-fiction, but I think it applies to fiction as well.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please drop a comment!

Is he a mirage? A manifestation of their connection? Or is he _here_ , in the sand and heat, sweating and panting and following her through the ship graveyard? The prickling on her neck tells her he isn't a mirage. There hadn't been a tilting _shift_ before she saw him; that discounts option two.

"Why are you here?" She should be more bitter. Angry.

"Where else would I be?" He's genuine. It's unnerving.

"Destroying star systems. Warmongering. Trying to kill me." She stomps away, feet gliding swiftly in familiar terrain.

"I don't want to kill you."

"Then why did you shoot at me?!" Here is the anger, hotter than ten suns. She stares him down. That face-- he can't hide anything. His lips twitch downward and he's blinking too frequently. His shoulders slump. "That's what I thought." She turns again.

Always running, always afraid, always hesitant. He'll never get to keep her if she won't face her problems or past. But that's what today is, and he's going to help. Those people are dead, and he'll help her come to terms with it. And then she'll remember.

"Why are you here?" The anger is fading again, receding into resignation.

"For you."

"For me? _I_ don't even know what I'm doing here."

"I'm here so that when you figure out what you need to do, you have help. Not that you'll need help. If you want it."

She's smiling slightly, grateful that he can't keep up and see her face. He's _fighting_. She's nothing and he's fighting for her. She didn't have to arrange a convoluted rendezvous or misguided seduction. He's fighting without having been asked. She can have him back.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He's tempted to brush her thoughts, but he doesn't want to violate this fragile peace. He follows her in silence, watching beads of perspiration roll down her neck. If he could _touch_ \-- she can't be comfortable. He's discarded his heaviest clothes. His hands are bare and so are hers, and it would be so _easy_ \-- but she has that staff and might be angry enough to use it.

He runs into her back when she abruptly stops. He almost, almost, lets his fingers graze her skin. But now isn't the time. Let her return first. Then they can touch to their hearts' content. The thought makes him _burn_.

"They're buried here. I can feel it." She pulls wilted flowers out of her pack and looks at him like a lost loth-cat might. He doesn't understand. She sees the crease in his brow and extends a hand. Oh. _Oh_. He makes the barest contact and tries to keep his composure as she talks to the dead.

"Hi Mum, Dad. I know you didn't want me. I know how you got rid of me. And I was really angry at first, partly at you, but mostly with myself. I deluded myself for so long and could have accomplished so much, but I was waiting for you. After the anger fizzled out, I realized that the whole thing is just... sad. For everybody. You had an addiction. Maybe you loved me at first, but not at the end, and that's sad for the whole family. You died out here and no one even knew until-- well, it's complicated. But I want you to know that I forgive you. I brought you some flowers. They, er, won't last long. I won't be back. So... bye, I suppose."

She's squeezing his hand and tugging him, and suddenly he's in the circle of her arms. Her face, slightly damp from crying, is pressed against his chest. He holds her awkwardly, stiffly. But he has her back now, and there will be plenty of time for practice.

They walk to Niima Outpost hand in hand. He rubs circles on her skin with his thumb unconsciously.

"Did I do it right? I've never been to a proper funeral." A whisper, full of nervous energy.

"You were far kinder than they deserved." Harsh. His hand clenches around hers. He feels the subtle shift in her mood. "You did wonderfully."

She gifts him with a smile. He's hers again. She's not sure exactly what that means, but she remembers her vision, the outline of it, and knows he won't leave her.

He smiles back. She's his again. She'll return with him. He'll teach her Force techniques she could have never dreamed of and together they will bring order and peace to the galaxy.

They jerk violently as each walks toward their own ship, hands still clasped.

"Where are you going?" In tandem. "I thought you were coming back with me." Together. "Why would you think that?" So very alike.

"You fought for me."

"I'll always fight for you. You came to me."

"By happenstance!"

"So you _didn't_ know exactly where I was on-planet?"

A beat. "That's beside the point. Being with you and flying off with you are two different things."

"What's so wrong with me? What's so bad about being with me that you _left me unconscious_ and fled?"

"It's not you, it's your goals! Not just the goals, your means. I don't want to rule the galaxy, and I can't abide using war as a tool."

"So you want to fight me?"

"I want you to stop fighting. I want to have to stop fighting. I want to be able to look at the sunset and think, 'Wow, what a relaxing day'. I don't even care if I'm happy, Ben. I just want to be content every so often. Is that too much to ask?" Defeated. Slumped. His girl is still lost. He must press his advantage.

"You could be happy with me, Rey." Hushed. "The rebels are almost defeated. When it's over, we'll be together."

She shakes her head, but not in disagreement. There's sadness in her eyes. Longing, too. Hope. Disappointment. Yearning. That feeling he can't identify.

"What can I say to change your mind?"

"Nothing, Ben. Nothing."     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory begging for comments:
> 
> I've had really bad insomnia for going on a week and that is bad for epileptics. It's bad for anybody, but it's extra bad for peeps with neuro crap. Help me feel better (psychologically, at least) with a comment! I'm legit only checking 3 websites these days, and this is one of 'em.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaand there we go, my lovelies! I would love, love, love feedback. I'm feeling chatty for the comments section (I've been remiss lately, I know). I also need prompts for more flash fics! I'd like to do two more, if possible. 
> 
> Favorite and least favorite parts of TLJ? Did you cry as much as I did? Discuss :D 
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://maq-moon.tumblr.com)


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